


M9nster

by twii2ted_8333335



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Ashen-Black Vacillation, Ashen-Red Vacillation, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Chucklevoodoos, Dark, Deafkri AU, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Multi, Non-Consensual, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Pale-Red Vacillation, Past Relationship(s), Unhealthy Relationships, hearing loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4164789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twii2ted_8333335/pseuds/twii2ted_8333335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You had given up. Sweeps of searching for some way, some method to cure the wrongs you had done were wasted away in the researching and dead ends. </p>
<p>You had given up.</p>
<p>And then like a motherfucking gift, Aranea comes up to you with a thick, dusty old book and shows you a way to fix all that you had done wrong to your matesprit.</p>
<p>And what better troll to ask for help than the little mutant helper himself? He'd be more than glad to help you help Meulin, and if not, well. </p>
<p>He'd be <i>glad</i> to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kurloz ==> Help Your Matesprit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be really dark in theme. Putting that out there now. This chapter is more of a prologue chapter bc I just don't want to look at it anymore tbh XD it's been in my drafts for weeks   
> I'm likely gonna post a real chapter late today or early tomorrow (it's like 10 am rn so)

You had given up. Sweeps of searching for some way, some method to cure the wrongs you had done were wasted away in the researching and dead ends. 

You had given up. You left the job to Aranea, asked her to look around in her spare time, never really expecting her to come up to you one day like a Savior from the Messiahs, saying how she found your solution. 

You had given up. And then like a motherfucking gift, she comes up to you with a thick, dusty old book and shows you a way to fix all that you had done wrong to your matesprit. You could finally undo the damage you had done. And, as Aranea had explained you, all you needed to do was find a vessel willing to help you. At least that was how you interpreted it because it would be more than useless for you to be the one to perform this spell. You'd be no better off. 

A vessel, you pondered. A vessel. One who would be willing — or could be _persuaded_ if nothing else. One who would lose nothing from helping you. It hits you the next night; what better troll to ask than the little mutant helper himself? He'd be more than glad to help you help Meulin, and if not, well. 

He'd be _glad_ to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o) HONK


	2. Kurloz ==> Approach the Mutant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write dark themes and you can tell here jc  
> How do chucklevoodoos work guys   
> I dun evn kno

You originally wondered what would be the best way to talk to this motherfucker. You weren't sure if you needed to be rough and direct or if you needed to ease him into this like a grub to the kiddie pool. 

You prod at his mind, in no mood to horse around with GIFs and smiles. He turns to face you, fully ready to warn you about asking first or some other trigger inducing bullshit like that, and you just prod more insistently. With a huff, and a cross of the arms, he allows you access to the very forefront of his mind. 

His has always been an intricate mind to work with. You see the inside as hallways, bland as he, neat and organized. There's so many doors, so many possibilities to explore, but most of them are locked. Closed off. Hidden from your view and his as well. Dark secrets kept deep in the shadows of his thoughts. You always hoped to one day kick them all down, reveal those secrets for you to pluck apart. 

"I need a favor of you."

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Perhaps you are manipulating his speech a little. You want this to go quickly after all and it is one of the few things you can control with this level of depth in him.

"A trade. Cast a spell to transfer your hearing to Meulin's body." 

He doesn't even pretend to think it over. "Absolutely not! Even if there was an upside to this for me, I would not spend my precious time giving away my hearing, one of my tools, if you will, for hearing the sorrowed cries of the unprivileged and — " he cuts off with a pained cry as you bury your hands in his thick hair and tug, anger blaring and echoing off the pale walls of his mind when you speak.

"Listen to me, motherfucker. She _is_ one of your unprivileged, unheard trolls. She had her hearing unfairly taken from her and I have a chance to bring it back. To undo the motherfucking wrongs I did to her and the Messiahs on that day. You are denying her her motherfucking hearing and her _rights_ by saying no to me." He struggles as you speak; you'd forgotten how he hated touching so. Should've bound his little mutant hands up. 

He eventually breaks from your grasp and your control, shoving you from his mind. "That is enough! While it is certainly my responsibility to help represent the repressed and unheard, it is _not_ my duty to fix the wrongs that others have done to one individual. If anyone should be giving up his hearing, it's you, Kurloz, especially for your own matesprit. Unless you aren't as flush for her as you think you are." 

He's dead. Double motherfucking dead. 

You lunge at him, once again grabbing a fistful of hair in one hand, the other wrapping precariously around his thin little throat. You squeeze, just enough for him to feel the pressure. Forcing back into his mind has him squirming against your hold, woken from his shocked and pained stupor.

"Says the one who can't even say he's flush for his matesprit without breaking my little motherfucking moirail's heart. At least I fight for her. At least _I try_." His resolve weakens. You push farther into his mind, cracking open nearby doors with the force. "You are going to help me..." 

You break several doors pushing completely into his mind. His eyes light up with the presence of your chucklevoodoos. 

"...unless you can survive your own thoughts." Really, it is him who will do all the work. Through manipulation, you only opened the doors. 

You watch them pour out through the open passages, creeping up the blank walls and under doors you couldn't open on your first push. You watch them envelop his mind twice over and you examine each part that crawls near enough for you to see. A hypocrite, a narcissist; how surprising. Your eyes would roll if you had pupils still. You see traces of masochism and find yourself taken aback. Not surprising, when you think about it, but not expected on any level. You prod at that one, wondering what formed it, where that tendril of darkness stemmed from in his trigger addled brain?

"No! Kurloz, this is highly unacceptable and inappropriate! I demand that you release your hold on me at once!" He stamps his foot down, nearly hitting yours, but when he breaks free of your hands, you don't allow him escape of your voodoos. You stand there and watch as his hands replace where yours were, watch as he breaks down, as he falls to his knees and calls himself a monster for having these thoughts, these secrets. 

You don't let him go when he begs you to stop. 

You don't let him go when he curls up on his side and by the noises he makes, you think he may shed a tear. 

You won't let him go until he agrees. Even if you have to completely break him to do it. 

You do however ease up on your control when you see the first tear, just barely backing off in his head. You kneel by him, stroke his hair around his tightly gripping hands. Brush over his horn. Soothing. 

"Last chance, motherfucker, before you don't get a choice in the matter." At this rate, you should've just gone with your original rough and direct approach. You wanted this to be fast and you wound up getting caught up in your persuading. 

He's silent for a moment. You're readying yourself to take his mind completely when he sobs out a tiny, "okay." 

"What was that? I don't think I heard you say anything." Not the time, you remind yourself, but damn, you love fucking around with him. 

"I said okay! I'll help you get Meulin her hearing back! Just please make the thoughts stop!" He sobs more, eyes squeezed tightly shut, hair strands plucking out between his fingers. His knees are brought all the way up to his chest, leggings all bunched up under his sweater. 

"What a beautiful motherfucking sight you are," you purr, "and you'll be more than happy to give your hearing to my matesprit." She deserved it more than him anyhow. 

With a slight crack in the whimper he makes, he nods. 

"Good. And don't worry about memorizing anything. I'll take care of all those preparations for you." You leave him with one last stroke of his mussed up hair. 

All in all, a great success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idunevnkno


	3. Kankri ==> Help Kurloz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to [these](http://fothermuckervocal.tumblr.com/post/112966469624/original-imogen-heap-cover-fothermucker-vocals) [two](http://fothermuckervocal.tumblr.com/post/111549282069/original-skillet-cover-fothermucker-vocals-art) songs a little too much  
> Sighs happily  
> Loving this au

You don't wish to, but you can't back out of it. Between the night you agreed and the night that had been set for this spell casting, you tried to avoid him, tried to somehow remove yourself from this equation but it was no use. He would overtake you again, poke and prod at every thought you'd hidden away for the sake of helping others who truly needed it, and would let them flow freely along the passageways of your mind. He always said that if you could endure it, he'd find another, but you never knew how long to endure. It always felt like hours, sweeps even, before you succumbed again. 

The night that you are to give your hearing to Meulin, he drags you down into the depths of his hive, where Aranea, Meulin and Mituna are all waiting. There are several circles drawn on the ground, symbols you don't recognize in colors you don't think are even on the spectrum. Two colored circles stand out to you: the one lined in olive green, across from where Kurloz sits you down, and the bright red one that he's sat you down in. The purple blood sits as close to his matesprit as he can without entering her circle. Mituna is grinning obscenely behind him. Aranea is walking around with a large book in her hands, making adjustments to the arrangements, making sure everything is in order. Her eyes are narrowed behind the white rimmed glasses. 

You are alone in this room. Wonderful. 

You watch as Kurloz becomes antsy, having little to focus on. His hands flex, likely aching to soothe Meulin who looks like a kitten shoved into a box with only one airhole. Her tail is flickering, nose twitching in time with it. You almost feel sorry for her, but then you deduct that she likely knows your part in this is barely consensual and the pitying ends there. 

Aranea finally sits down, somewhere behind you, near the entrance to this basement. Your hemopumper speeds up. It's going to start soon, whatever it is.

"You remember all the words right?" Aranea's voice echoes in your ears. 

Kurloz nods and to your surprise, Mituna does as well.

You brace yourself. 

When Kurloz presses at your mind, you don't resist. The time for that is over. You let him fully take you over. 

Feeling him in your head is like having a headache. You feel foggy and heavy and there's this pressure on your head,like somebody's putting you in a vice and cutting off your air supply. There's an echo along the walls of your thoughts, another demon amongst the ones you've carefully hidden away. 

And yet, you find that when you're not struggling, it's almost caring in a way. He's not actively trying to suppress you or force you into submission. If anything, he seems to be trying to keep you calm. Soothed. You feel sleepy. 

Your body moves on its own, without any prompting from you, but you find you don't mind. You rather like this, being able to stand and move without effort, being able to rest and at least pretend that you're being taken care of like this. Is that Kurloz giving you those thoughts? Or is this another of your demons forming behind a locked door?

Words form from your lips, but you can't understand them well, not from lack of hearing but from the pressure in your head and the lull your mood seems to have. You aren't focused. You know Mituna is echoing them, just barely a second between the words coming from your mouth and his. Its enough to give you a solid amount of dysphoria. Kurloz quells that quickly and easily with a few quiet words that eat your discomfort like goats to pasture. 

Meulin stands at some point, glowing green aura surrounding her body. Her eyes are illuminated with the purple of Kurloz's chucklevoodoos. You figure you must look the same, limp and under control. 

You both march forward, meeting in the center of the circle that connects yours to her. It's white. The air surrounding you even feels white. Cold. 

There's a word you feel yourself put emphasis on, and it's then you realize you're not speaking Beforan. You're not speaking English or Alternian or any language you can recall having read on or learned before. No wonder you can't understand what's being said. 

Another emphasized word, then another and another until you feel as though you're spitting them out, faster and faster. 

You stop your chanting when your body is submerged in horrific pain. Kurloz, still ever present in your head, assures you that this is part of the process and you aren't expected to do anything but endure the transfer. Far away, as if he'd crossed mountains in the past few moments, Mituna groans but it sounds planned, not painful. Is he supposed to do that? Are you supposed to feel like your body is searing hot and your ears are the main points of the raging fire threatening you? You try to focus on Meulin, see if she's in as much pain as you, but your eyes won't open again. Your head reels. Something has to be going wrong by now. Or perhaps going right?

The pain subdues to something more manageable. Your throat is hoarse now. Had you been screaming? You hadn't heard anything besides Mituna's groans and Kurloz's echoing encouragements. Maybe that was the point? 

Your eyes blink open again, then decide to remain half closed. You're exhausted. 

Meulin is glowing red now. She looks just as exhausted as you do, arms waving limply at her sides. You suspect, you're glowing olive.

"Transfer complete," Kurloz notifies you, though it seems as though he was repeating something Aranea would have said. 

It must have worked. 

Kurloz has you speak a few more lines of foreign language, releasing his hold on Meulin as he does so. She collapses to the ground, the red aura disappearing. You don't hear the thump that he flinches at. You don't hear Mituna or even your own garbled speech anymore. 

You don't hear anything.

"Thanks, motherfucker," you hear echo inside your thoughts. You should be riled up by the begrudging tone with which the juggalo speaks to you but you're much too out of your comfort zone for that. 

He releases you. You collapse where you stand much like Meulin. The world goes dark around you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good night Kankri :o)
> 
> Now with [fanart](http://the-real-jane-crocker.tumblr.com/post/123310663161/fanart-for-twii2ted-8333335-3-its-from-that-one)!


	4. Kankri ==> Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is some quality shit right here uh huh yup yup

You don't wake immediately after your incident in the depths of Kurloz's hive. You fade in and out, managing to catch a glimpse of white glasses and cerulean lipstick,and then later you find familiar swirls of tattoos and a cool embrace of who you assume to be Porrim. You think you see Cronus at one point, all worried eyes and pouty lips and a slightly bruised cheek, but your imagination must just be giving you very vivid hallucinations. 

When you do finally decide to join the conscious beings again, you find yourself in a pile of casual possessions — clothing, a blanket or two, pillows, a small stuffed barkbeast toy that's buried under it all — that you spent night after night working on for days when you couldn't sleep and felt like a wriggler again, lost and alone. You're quite glad Porrim put you here because you have never felt more alone than you do now. No trolls are to be seen in this room of your hive; no Cronus, no Porrim, no Latula or Mituna or anyone. Tears prickle behind your eyes. 

You suppose it wouldn't be quite so bad if you were accustomed to your new situation but as it stands, it's far too quiet than what you're used to and without anybody around to guide you, help you, you feel pathetic. Small. Pitiful. You crave some sort of consolation, some type of comfort to help you through this. 

You find yourself wanting Kurloz. His hand caressing your hair again. His voice echoing in your head. His body holding yours close as you cry and shiver and — 

What kind of thoughts were these? You shake your head. You must still be having after effects of his presence in your mind. How Meulin stands it you'll never know. 

When you stand, you find yourself shaky and unnerved. You attempt to assure yourself that you're deaf, not blind, and walking is more reliant on vision. Taking the first step has you hesitant in taking another one. You _know_ you should be hearing the _clack!_ or soft _pat_ of your foot on the floor, depending on whether you're wearing shoes or not, which you're not you realize; and yet, there's no audible proof you stepped down. There's no echo of your footsteps resounding through your hive and there's no warning preceding the hand on your shoulder from behind. 

You scream. You know you do. You can feel the vibration in your throat. You clutch at your sweater, panicking from Cronus scaring the ever loving death out of you and the fact that _there's nothing around you making noise_. You hadn't realized you relied on sound so much to live your life. All those times you wished for silence you immediately take back. You didn't want this. 

Cronus is trying to calm you down. He's talking to you but you don't know what he's saying. You can't hear his stupid quirked words or read his stupid chapped lips especially with that God forsaken cigarette in his mouth. You press your hands to his lips, smushing the cancer stick against your palm, and whisper what you hope sounds like, "Please stop." 

You drop your hands. His lips don't move again. Instead, he sits in front of you, discarding his cigarette and replacing it with a new one from his pocket. He brings his hand up again and slowly moves it towards your face. You flinch; he retracts. He makes a tear motion down his cheek and you wipe at yours with the ends of your sleeves. They come back damp and darker, and you can still feel more dripping across your skin. You sob hard enough to feel in your throat, a harsh contraction of muscles that has you sobbing even more from the sting. Your hands go to your forearms, clinging desperately to the sweater sleeves, to your skin, to anything that's real right now. 

Cronus stares at you with genuinely pitiful eyes. He looks pathetic. He likely feels it. 

You don't know how to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys I lied  
> Im trying to find a good pathway from this point to the point I want to be at and it's??? Not???? Working???   
> Send help


	5. Cronus ==> Contact Porrim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the chapter I intended on writing but it just kinda happened so  
> Happy birthday to no one in particular 
> 
> Tw: bc Cronus gets a little feelsy and there's no technical consent to that? he doesn't get far but still

Kankri eventually falls back asleep after sobbing his eyes sore. His breathing calms as you carry him back to his pile but it's hoarse, painful to listen to. You can't even begin to imagine what's going through his head, what type of — what's a word Kanny would be proud of you using? — melancholy he's going through. Yeah, there you go, that'd make him smile. Or cringe. You don't even know at this point. 

You're so confused. You really need to find Porrim so that you guys can discuss what to do about this before he wakes up again and gets into any actual trouble. You leave the sleeping troll for a moment and sneak to Porrim's self proclaimed room in the hive. You can still hear her muttering about how awful Kurloz is for taking advantage of Kankri like that and how Aranea must have known Kurloz would go after him if she told Kurloz that spell. You can hear her, with a slightly sadder tone, murmur about how she knows Aranea can be better than that. Kinder. 

You decide not to bother her yet. 

Cronus ==> Head Back to Kankri

That's really all you can do at this point. You sit by him again, half in the pile, and man, if it ain't the cutest thing to watch him curl around you like a contented meowbeast. He's trembling a little, after shocks of the breakdown you figure, and you take a risk by even putting your hands near him. Your hand rests on his head and holy shit, he actually nuzzles it a bit. It encourages you. You pet at his hair, forcing yourself to go slowly so he doesn't wake and bite your entire arm off, physically and metaphorically. He purrs at the motions. 

You eventually graze his horn and he squirms a little. His lips twitch in a smile. You're tempted to do it again, just another little brush of the fingers — He shifts this time, falling more on his stomach than his side and softly bumps your hand again. Your heart races. Your fingertip trails along the surface of his nubby horn, making him flush in the face and squirm in the pile and he even makes a little pleasures noise at the stimulus. You can feel his triggers in the back of your head, how this is so so wrong but damn if he makes it feel so right with those full parted lips of his and those tiny little gasps and man, you want him to say your name so badly. 

You finally remember you have two hands and use your other to touch his neck, the back and nape under his sweater, squeezing and massaging and he's so close to saying your name you can almost taste it. 

Cronus ==> Be Surprised

You'd like to say you are. 

You're not.

You remove your hands from the mutantblood, discouraged yet again from ensuing shenanigans. You flick your old cigarette away and pop a new one into your mouth. 

Damn that Makara. What's he got that you don't? Besides Kankri's attention apparently. 

You look down at Kankri again. You're so tempted to wake him up, ask him what his deal is with Kurloz all of a sudden. What exactly happened in his hive to make him dream about that psychotic clown? What do you have to do to get that type of attention from him? 

"Damn it." For once in your afterlife, you really wished you smoked these things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably gonna do the actual chapter I planned next  
> This is just like a little bonus Cronus  
> Hah XD


	6. Porrim ==> Fix This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go now we're getting somewhere   
> Woot woot for character sadness

You didn't say anything when Aranea had brought Kankri hive, half conscious and disoriented, and no you wish you had. You feel betrayed, you suppose, that somebody once so close to you would hurt one of your dearest troll mates. It hurt knowing she was the brains behind the operation, even if Kurloz was the one who forced it all into action. 

You had pouted longer enough though; now you need to take action. There's a frightened troll in your care and you've currently left him with the biggest pervert under Beforus' moon. When you find them curled up in the pile a few rooms down, he seems to have kept his hands to himself. Kankri seems to be the more touchy one tonight, but you knew he liked to cling in his sleep. 

Cronus explains that he woke and almost immediately broke down and God, how did you miss that? You're not sure but you know you have to fix this now. You need to help him adjust because it's obvious he's not going to do it on his own. 

You tell Cronus to stay with him while you head off to the cook area. You whip up something simple but filling: a few chickbeast eggs scrambled up to fill him. You carry the steaming bowl back, grabbing a pad of paper and a pen along the way, and gently wake your little wriggler. 

Kankri ==> Wake Up

You don't want to. You're having such a nice dream, warm and pressed up against Kurloz. Meulin is there too and while her matesprit strokes your hair and keeps you on a neutral level, he helps her relearn speaking, encouraging her when she struggles with a word and massaging her jaw when she pouts and signs how it hurts from so little usage over the sweeps. You like this. You don't want it to end. 

End it does though because someone is trying to get your attention, and when you wake, you find that it's Porrim shaking you gently and Cronus that you're pressed up against. You quietly shuffle away from him, trying not to focus on the lack of clothes shuffling in your ears. You're on the edge of your pile now, far away from them both. 

Porrim offers you a bowl and you take it. The pronged utensil within clicks against the edge of the bowl and you have to force your breathing to stay calm when you realize the sound is just a phantom memory. You can't hear it. You'll likely never hear it again. 

Porrim sets down a thick pad of paper and a pen beside you before she backs off. She doesn't leave, and Cronus hasn't either, but they make no move to do anything more which you're a little grateful for. You eat in silence, true silence. No fake breathing that Cronus enjoys. No chirpbeasts outside because surely it must be close to morning at this point in the bubble. No sound at all. Just silence. 

You try to assure yourself you can adjust to this. You can make it through at least an hour of nothingness but you're fighting a fruitless battle. Trying to convince yourself that you just accept this without question is more difficult than trying to convince yourself on a daily basis that you're celibate and a helper and that you don't consistently doubt yourself and your actions. Trying to convince yourself that others have it worse than you do now grows harder the more you sit and think about how much you hate this silence, this discomfort, this out of place feeling. 

You quickly scribble that you're going out on the paper and you bolt before you can be questioned. You can't handle this on your own. You need somebody. 

You need Kurloz. Even if it's him making you think that, you need him more than you ever thought you could. You need his comfort. You need him to take control of your thoughts, to suppress them, to take them away again. You need him to fill you with a voice, a sound, anything again. You _need_ him. 

You need to watch where you're going. 

Latula ==> Crash

You have no idea when you last had a wipe out as intense as that one while on your skateboard. You trusted this thing with what was left of your existence and you knew it was as reliable as any weapon in the world, any troll you'd ever met. It was actually pretty exciting, having the rush of being knocked off your most faithful possession. Holy wow. 

When you finally manage to sit up and collect your bearings, you see that Kankri is on the floor with you. He must have been what pushed you down. 

By now, everyone was pretty much in the know about what happened with Kankri and Meulin. You had seen Meulin earlier, signing that it would be great for everyone to not talk loudly or all at once and to spread the word to those not there at the time of her announcement. She seemed to be adjusting fairly well though, remembering everyone's voices, remembering how to use her own and how to adjust to it. She seemed so happy, even more than usual. 

Kankri looks like he wanted to just curl up in a hole and leave the dream bubbles forever. The sight of those empty eyes, looking so much paler than usual, so much sadder, tugs at your heart. 

You crawl over to him, gently placing a hand on his arm. He doesn't move, doesn't freak out or push you away. You carefully examine him, making sure he isn't injured from the fall, which he's not. He's just slumping, defeated, through his own will. 

He looks to you suddenly. It's a slow movement but it still catches you off guard after him acting like a wriggler's toy doll. You can see red tinted tears forming in the corners of his white out eyes, and you're more than confused when he lunges at you, arms wrapping around your sides, head resting just under your sternum. You shift him slightly, pull him closer so you can hold him tightly. You can feel his tears dripping onto your jumpsuit. You can feel him trembling and shivering and crying and you make the connections in your head. His world has been turned completely upside down from this. You'd been so focused on Meulin's happiness you didn't even think about how this was effecting the other parties. 

Some flush crush you are. 

You're here now though and you tell him that even if he can't hear it. You tell him that you're there and you won't leave and you stroke at his shuddering back to try and help. You're sure Tuna will understand if you stay out a little late because of this. 

You hope.


	7. Kankri ==> Relax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to go to work in like two seconds so quick update here

You don't fall asleep this time when you calm down. You don't feel safe enough for that. You're out in the open, vulnerable, practically getting papped for goodness' sake. In the open. A million thoughts run through your head, a million subsequent triggers appearifying into your thoughts. You're going to become overwhelmed again. 

You croak out what you pray is Kurloz's name. As much as you want to stay in Latula's pale embrace for the rest of eternity because wow, now that you're focused on it, she's the perfect combination of firm and gentle and she's just the right temperature to not be overly sensitive to you. She's wonderful and you just want to curl up on your pile and bury your face in her rumblespheres and twine your limbs together. You want nothing more than to stay in this bubble of happiness. 

But you still want Kurloz. Latula can give you comfort but she can't give you sound and that's what you crave. A voice, even if it's perhaps your own, _anything_. 

You stand with her and nearly cry when you both start for Kurloz's domain of dream bubbles.

Kurloz ==> Be Confused

You'd like to say you are. 

You're not. 

When the tealblood comes into your hive with a familiar little mutant in tow, you're almost expecting it. Granted, you thought that his self proclaimed caretaker would be the one to bring him here but his quadrant confused flush crush is still no reason for confusion. 

Kankri breaks away from his escort and practically lunges at you. When he kneels by you, he slides, bumping softly against your legs. Even though you're also sitting, he's still smaller than you. You didn't notice how small he was before, unless he's shrunk in the past few nights. 

He allows you into his head without any resistance. You're tempted to say he welcomes you as you push your chucklevoodoos into his thoughts. You smile softly at him, and he trembles. You think he's going to cry. If the state of his cheeks is any indication, you believe he already has. 

His thoughts are a frantic mess, nothing like the clean, crisp and concise ones you so happily broke those nights ago when you first approached him. You can see yourself laced amongst the red and blank tendrils, thin purple wrapped around every one of his thoughts. He's trying to voice what he wants but he keeps getting distracted by the lack of sound of his voice and by all the discomfort he's felt over the past hour. 

Latula still hasn't left yet. She's shuffling awkwardly in the doorway to this hive. 

You prod at her mind, to connect the three of you. Her eyes go a little wide at the state of Kankri's thoughts and the feel of them, overtaking her, overwhelming her. You're used to it. 

"Do you want her to stay?" 

You both look to the mutant troll. He looks down, breathing shakily, unevenly. Eventually, he shakes his head. You can see the upset in her crestfallen expression but rather than making an enemy out of her, you push Kankri to continue, "I want her to tell Porrim I'm here. For a while. I want to be here." He's not lying. You aren't putting thoughts in his head. You simply coerced him into following one tendril of his process. He seems grateful for it, for the control. Latula looks a little more relieved. 

You wait until she leaves to place your hands on the small troll before you. You stroke his hair and his horns and he practically sobs out a sigh, leaning into your hands like they're all that's keeping him from slipping into a double death. You speak quietly to him in the confines of his mind, soothing him the way you did during the the transfer. He sobs and grabs onto you, clings to you. You don't react to this. You've seen Meulin break down before. 

Your matesprit does eventually walk in on this event. She sits by you and places a hand on Kankri, which causes him to shoot up in alarm. He nearly clocks your chin with his head as he sits up. She gives him a soft smile and doesn't speak. She slowly signs to him, some of the motions not real sign language but gestures for him to understand better. She tells him she wants to help. After all he's done for her, willingly giving his hearing up — oh, you wonder who told her that ;o) — and suffering through this massive loss, she wants to help. You don't think he catches the lapse in fact. You don't think he really understood anything she told him and so you translate to fit his knowledge of the situation. 

He nods, hesitantly. 

You all decide to move from this room to another where you can all lay in a pile and ease your minds and rest. You've all had busy weeks, your two little lowbloods especially. While Kankri and Meulin settle on the pile, you grab a small cupful of sopor slime. You don't use it often but you keep enough around in your memories for the days when Meulin remembers your scream, for the days when you don't trust your dreams — for the days when you have a clingy mutabtblood in your hive waiting for you to snuggle in between him and your matesprit. 

You dab your fingers in slime and dab it on Kankri's temples, his pulse points and you coax him into taking off his sweater and pulling his overly long pants down so you can rub it across his chest, over his heart. You assure him you would do it to Meulin too when she was in his position. 

With everything finally settled, Meulin on your right and Kankri on your left, still clinging heavily to you, you allow yourself to relax. You let yourself flow between each of their minds, helping to soothe them and fall asleep. Meulin goes first, trusting you and adjusted to the effects of your voodoos in her mind. Kankri takes longer, so wound up from all his thoughts, all his worries and fears and anxieties. You close those tendrils behind tight doors. You wrap your arm around him and press your lips to his head, humming. He shudders, still afraid, still unsure, but the sopor finally kicks in and almost forces him to sleep. 

You let out a slow breath through your nose. You've got a troll on each arm, each one dependent one you for sanity. Meulin may say she isn't but you know a few sweeps without you would have her crawling back like Kankri. She's too far reliant on your voodoos. 

Though, with her hearing back, maybe that's not so true anymore. 

You hum again before shaking the thought away. 

Another time. You'll think about it another time. For now, you sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurloz is a liiiiiiar oopsie


	8. Meulin ==> Evaluate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huff huff huff   
> Kankri having mixed feelings about his sudden af choices in life   
> Death   
> Whatever he is XD

You wake the next night with your head tucked under Kurloz's chin and your tail swishing lazily over your leg. Both him and Kankri are still snoozing away, Kurloz exhaling loudly through his nose, Kankri making soft whimpers of what sounds like fear. You carefully move your hand from between yours and your matesprit's body and scritch softly at the base of his horn until his whimpers change into a purr. You find yourself laughing gently, and your grin widens when you don't flinch from the sound. 

Your guest wakes before your mate, eyes half opened and rings forming under his eyes. You continue to pet and scritch at his head and he purrs quietly. He shuffles a little closer to you, his cheek resting on Kurloz's chest. His arm drapes across your mate's stomach; his leg goes over Kurloz's thigh. He seems much more content this way. You don't blame him. You remember that time in your life. 

Realizing that Kurloz wouldn't wake anytime soon, you sit up, ready to start your night. Kankri remains down, which surprises you. You thought he would have been flipping out over how he's exposed and indecent and you should wait until he has clothes on to move about the hive room. Looking at him though, you see a broken troll who likely doesn't have the will to move. He doesn't know what to do with himself. 

You carefully help him up. He's limp in your grip. Pliant. You don't remember being quite this depressed but you don't remember a lot from the beginning of your hearing loss. You lead him into the ablution block and while you're tempted to strip him down and help him bathe, you think Kurloz would have better luck with that. Even in this state, overstepping a boundary like that would shock Kankri out of his stupor in a heartbeat. You settle for rinsing the soppr off his skin with a washcloth, trying not to make a face at the feel of water on your own skin. Gross. 

You head to another room in the hive with him in tow, eventually sitting down at a table. You grab a stack of paper, a pencil, and you lay it neatly in the space between you two. At first, he doesn't move, but slowly, he grabs the pencil and just holds it. He doesn't make a move to communicate, just cradles the mechanical item in his hand. You grab another one for yourself since he doesn't seem to want to give up his. 

On the top of the paper, you write, "Did you sleep well?" 

He nods brusquely.

You try again. "How long do you think you'll stay here?" 

He looks up at you this time. The raw emotion you feel from his blank gaze and see in the misery of his expression is enough to tell you that he probably hadn't planned on leaving. That was fine. He could stay as long as he wanted to. It'd be nice to be able to bond with him. You can't say you didn't think about it before. 

"Was there anything you wanted here that is at your hive?" 

He pauses, thinking. In beautifully fancy writing, he jots down, "Yes. From my pile, there's a woofbeast under the blankets that I would like to keep." 

You smile softly; how cute. "I used to have a cute little clawbeast that I'd carry around and talk to if no one was looking." 

He echoes your smile and breathes out an amused exhale of breath. 

Kankri ==> Enjoy yourself

You thoroughly succeed in doing so. Talking to Meulin is an experience you didn't think you'd have for a long time, and the pain in your cheeks from grinning so widely is one you've never felt before now. She, like Latula, comforts you in a way that has you calmer, more relaxed. Once or twice you stiffen again, remember that she's the one who has your hearing, the reason why you're even going through all this dysphoria, but she backs off and waits for you to calm down and she hasn't once opened her mouth to try and speak and cause you an even greater amount of discomfort. You can't stay mad when she's doing her best to help you. You can't stay mad at her when she still believes you did this willingly and are just having problems adjusting.

You should tell her. You almost do. 

You don't want to rob her of this though. This happiness. She spent sweeps upon sweeps having to live in silence, without the comforting tone of a friend or even of her matesprit. You know first hand now that the voice he once had and the voice of his chucklevoodoos are two completely separate sounds. What kind of selfish prick would you be if you took that from her? 

She teaches you a little sign language over lunch. You make a game of it: a few bites of food for every sign you successfully repeat. Being dead, you don't technically need the food, but being in rut of emotions, it certainly helps fill the void. Cronus fills his with air; you fill yours with cakes and cookies in the shape of cats. 

Kurloz joins half way through the night. He quizzes you himself and gives you a peck on the cheek when you get them all right. Out of habit, you open your mouth to learn him a lesson in how triggering that could be to some people, but no words want to leave your lips. You consider writing it down but with the amount of words you'd have to write, you'd get carpal tunnel before you were finished. It isn't worth the effort. 

You close your mouth and slump in your chair. Kurloz quirks an eyebrow at you. He prods at your thoughts and once again, you allow him to flow through your head without restriction. He soothes you, allows you to rant about triggers and how he should not touch you under any circumstances even though you spent the whole night draped over him.

You spend that night draped over him too. His hand slips under your body and rests on your hip. His other one is twirling Meulin's hair around his finger, her head resting on the corresponding arm. 

You could adjust to this life. To false sounds and cold cuddles on a pile and relying on sopor and chucklevoodoos to comfort you and relax you. To a life of living with an unstable highblood and a too beautiful midblood. 

You stop yourself there. You're being far too judgemental for having only spent one night here, and in that night, you've been happier than you have in the past couple sweeps. Perhaps losing your hearing will be a turning point. A way to lead up to a new afterlife, a new path of happiness. Perhaps Kurloz did you a favor by freeing you of those thoughts, of those unhealthy opinions you always heard. Perhaps you should thank him. 

Perhaps you should keep him out of your head tomorrow. You don't know why you would ever think such false information was true. 

You need rest. This is a subject to analyze tomorrow. 

You still find yourself tangling around his body despite your mental attempts to separate yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter prolly makes no sense


	9. Kurloz ==> Formulate Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote part of this with the last chapter update, most of this yesterday when I had an awful headache and finished it this morning before work  
> Its a wreck I know  
> Also: thank you to every loyal follower of this fic c: love you guys <3

When you wake the next evening, you find your mate gone from the room and you don't sense her in the hive. There's a note in the spot she slept in confirming that she left to obtain a few items for your new guest, to make him feel more welcome. You look to the sleeping troll. He seems to be adjusting fine, all up and curled around you like a barkbeast missing its master. You wonder if that's just the sopor. 

You pet his hair gently. Your fingers brush over his horns. He sighs contently, and you can feel the muscles relax against you. As much as he preaches about culling and the privileges of lowbloods, he does seem to enjoy the coddling. 

He smells awful, stale sopor and sweat powerful in your nose. Must joins it. It's disgusting but you can't completely blame him. There were other things on his mind besides hygiene — you, for example. You gently wake him by entering his mind and pressing your lips repeatedly, softly, to his head and his horn. He stirs and looks up to you, and to your surprise, he gives the corner of your mouth a little kiss. You don't think he's processing his own actions; he looks too dazed, too exhausted still. Perfect. This would be the ideal time to get him in the ablution block, while he can't mentally yell at you about triggers and how inappropriate it is to see one another naked outside a quadrant; which would present an opportunity to remind you of his celibacy, etc, etc, ad infinitum. 

You're actually quite proud of yourself for knowing your little mutant so well. Of course, if he ever did begin to go off like that you could just cut your voodoo's connection with his mind and watch him squirm in silence but it's best to avoid the wasted time. For now. 

He kisses your jaw as you lift him up and start for the ablutions, figuring you may as well join him in washing. Your hair alone needs constant care even in the afterlife — curse your curls. You set him on his feet once you're in the room. He seems to be gaining consciousness, realizing that he is in a different room and that yes, this is fine because he does actually smell awful and needs this. Unfortunately he does panic when your clothes start coming off. The top portion of your skelesuit is slipping off your shoulders when you push your hand into his hair, thumb rolling over the side of his horn. Your noses bump a little as you lean your forehead on his. 

"Do you trust me?" That's the extent of your interference. Your body doesn't move, your voodoos stay out of his thoughts. You want his honest answer though you feel as though you already know it. 

He wants to say no. You can see it in the raised eyebrows and blunt teeth gnawing his lower lip. It's on the tip of his tongue. But he doesn't say no, not directly. "Not yet," is what he settles on. 

Fair enough. You'll call that a 30% trust factor. That's higher than you expected. You give him a smile and a little honk and stay out of his head just a little longer. 

"I ain't gonna up and look at you motherfucker. Just wanna make sure you don't pass the fuck out on the ablutiontrap and save a little water by going in with you." You can feel more than see the change in his tone towards the situation when you make a valid point like that. He's still wavering though, so you continue, trying to tip him completely in your favor. "Trust me, little mutant, you don't wanna up and risk an accident especially when you're still vulnerable. Weak. I just wanna look after you." You purposely bump your noses this time, knowing it'll trigger — hah — his flush or even pale instincts. He'll want it. In this state, he'll want the quadrant comfort as badly as your voodoos. 

"You swear not to look at me? Or touch me? I can handle the little bumps and the late night coddling because those seem to be keeping me stable in my vulnerable state, as you put it, but I will certainly not allow you to touch me skin to skin like that. Vulnerable I may be but I am still celibate." You nod, agreeing, and he allows you to finish undressing. You turn away to find a comfortable water temperature for you both and so he can undress in private. 

True to your word, you keep your gaze above his head — not a difficult feat when you're as tall as you are and he's such a tiny little motherfucker to begin with — and only catch glimpses of his body when you look down to make sure cleaning product is getting all of your skin. He stops and starts back up a few times, presumably looking over your many hair products and figuring out which would be best for him while simultaneously trying to wash and not bump into you. Messiahs forbid you both fall in the ablutions and he has to lay naked on your for a minute or two. 

It isn't until your hair is thoroughly soaked with shampoo that you realize he keeps stopping to look at you. Not your body, no. You look down at him when you feel his gaze and realize he's been staring at your face. You let the water wash the sudsy substances off your hands before touching your cheek; what has his attention? 

You allow yourself an amused exhale of laughter. Your paint. Must've up and washed away already. Your face is as clean as the day you were hatched and he's never seen that before. 

His hand reaches up, pauses, then touches your cheek when you give him the go ahead. He's gentle, like you're the fragile one here. His thumb swipes over your cheek bone and his fingers dig into your flesh like he can't believe you're real anymore. 

You slip a little closer to him. Your voodoos slip into his thoughts again, not active yet. Just present. 

His hands slip up into your wet hair. The shampoo is half washed out of it, leaving the strands mainly straight and clinging to your face. He pushes some of them back. 

You find the flushed tendril of thought that is begging him to kiss you. 

You tug it subtly. 

Kankri ==> Indulge

You find yourself following one of your more risque trains of thought down the proverbial tracks and end up indulging in this little fantasy that's been growing in your head since you woke up. You had those lips in your dreams, and you don't know if it was your own desires for more trollian contact or just a trick Kurloz was playing on you in the hopes of getting into your pants like every other troll seemed to want to do just to say they've done it. You longed for the stitch clad lips and the beautiful sight of this troll, raw and bare to you, was just too much, you suppose.

You're still celibate. This isn't a sexual act and you initiated it. That didn't count right? 

You wish his stitches didn't exist. You wish he could do more like the grip of his hands on your waist implies he wants. You can feel the muscles of his lips straining against his thread, moving in the tiny motions they can and you're doing your best to make up for it but you're inexperienced and it's not the same. 

You still pull away breathless and gasping and unsatisfied. You want to go back into it but there's soapy water running down the sides of his face and you realize you may want to finish your ablutions first. You turn away from him again, trying to focus on finishing up. Your lips tingle in the meantime. 

You don't feel the urge to kiss him again as you're drying off and getting dressed. You still want to but it's once again a repressed thought, a distant memory you're suppressing for the sake of your celibacy, your vow, your promise. It's an old, familiar habit, and you cling to it. 

You end up apologizing for your little slip up, but he just honks at you and presses his lips to yours chastely. His hair drips water droplets on your cheeks and nose;it:: and outside the cool water you can feel the temperature of his lips, can pick up the texture of his stitches easier now that they aren't dampened. 

You sigh against him, enjoying the kiss. He pulls away to brush and dry his hair, which very quickly transforms into a puffy mess again. As he works, you consider telling him that he broke his promise that time, but you did initiate the first one; you must be fine with a little intimate touching on some level. You decide against reprimanding him for it, even when he does it again, hands slipping to your waist. 

You find yourself thinking that you could indeed adjust to this life. That you could learn to trust this troll and perhaps see him redeem himself for the wrong he did to you, as he did with Meulin. 

Perhaps. Perhaps he could even be the troll to make you fall horns over heels. 

You really shouldn't keep putting off your deeper thoughts like these ones but you don't want to deal with them. Communications and adjusting and trusting come first. Should a quadrant begin to emerge from this intricate relationship you will handle it. 

"Goodness, I need more rest. Kurloz, would you rest with me?" He still hasn't put his face paint on. His hair bounces when he nods, causing a smile to erupt on to your face. How is such a dangerous troll so adorable? 

You curl up with him on the pile again, without sopor, without Meulin, without anything but each other's bodies balancing each other out. Your heat to his ice, his height to your lack of, your insecurity to his confidence. You don't know what you'd do without him, without his strength, without his influence. You try to think on it, perhaps complete a thought process for once, but this time you can't.

You've triggered yourself thinking about leaving this troll any time soon. 

He soothes your troubled mind, assures you that you can trust him, that he won't leave. You believe him. Being in his embrace, being in his hive, being in his presence — you believe him. 

He's not going to leave. And neither are you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honk honk honk  
> Kurloz is tryna get somewhere here


	10. Meulin ==> Enter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this time to get a sneak peek at the lives of Cronus and porrrm with Kankri at kurlozs

You go into Kankri's hive in the early evening, half hoping to run into neither Porrim nor Cronus as you know they like to hang around here. You came with a bag slung over your shoulder because while Kankri gave you only one thing to grab, you were sure he'd appreciate extra clothing and accessories, especially considering you didn't know how long he'd be staying in the hive.

You find his pile easily, grabbing a few smaller blankets and folding them for the bag. You grab the barkbeast he mentioned, giving it a little squeeze. The noise it greets you with is just adorable. You can see why he'd want this above anything else. 

You pad quietly passed the room where you see Porrim sleeping, worry etched deep into the lines of her face. You may leave a note here as well, so she at least knows he's safe and watched over. There's another room between that one and Kankri's and you see Cronus in this one, seemingly awake but not facing you. He's on the floor with papers strewn around him. You can see staves upon staves of music notes crossed out and replaced and remade. You can't make out the lyrics underneath. 

Kankri's respiteblock is, of course, neatly kept, which makes it quick and easy for you to find his clothes and bathroom accessories. You giggle when you find a bright pink shower cap among the shelves of shampoos. You place them on the top of Kankri's belongings, alongside his brush and dental items. Satisfied, you decide you should head out before you're caught. You sneak out of the room, quietly close it — 

— and when you turn around, you promptly bump into the troll blocking your path. You look up and find him looking down at you, arms crossed, expression unamused and a cigarette sticking out from the side of his lips. 

Uh-oh.

Cronus ==> Interrogate

"Vwell, vwell, vwvell... if it ain't Kurloz's little kittybitch. Vwhat do you vwant?" She doesn't answer you at first, eyes wide and body frozen from being caught. Did she think she was being sneaky? All that giggling, all the creaking of the floors and the doors opening — the only reason you didn't do anything earlier was because you knew she wasn't a threat and you'd got struck with inspiration for your song. 

Your idea out of the way, you approached her at the perfect moment. "Vwhat's vwrong, kitten? Cat got your tongue?" You grin at your own stupid puns, watching her back up against the door. "I knowv you can hear me. Nowv ansvwer me." You press closer to the oliveblood; there's no way you're giving her an opportunity to escape you. 

She sounds small when she does answer, quiet and timid, "I was just making surre Kankitty would be comfurrtable at Purrloz's." You scowl at her, a million thoughts rushing through your head. How he could be comfortable here at his hive, tagging triggers in books and babbling to you about how awful your books in particular can be, if only this little bitch and her clown matesprit hadn't taken his hearing, hadn't reduced him to an unprepared, mess of a troll. How she shouldn't be trying to make him comfortable; she should be listening to whatever conscience she has left in that voodoo addicted pan of hers and giving Kankri his fucking hearing back. 

She looks up at you with frightened, pleading eyes. 

You sidestep out of her way. It was her who took his sense, but it was Kankri who left on his own accord, without hardly a note to go of. Just "I'm g9ing 9ut." You guess you should be glad he's getting the attention he needs. 

Meulin bolts for the door right as Porrim is exiting her room. She zips passed and leaves the hive, bag in tow. 

The jadeblood looks to you for explanation, but you don't give her one. You retreat to your room of the hive, sit back in the middle of your circle of music, and lay your head in your hands. You hear Porrim's door shut again and feel awful because you know she's going to lay in her recooperacoon and blame herself for what's happened. And like an idiot, you still don't get up to console her. You wouldn't be able to. You can't even console yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bye bye Meulin don't come again


	11. Mituna ==> Observe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: THAT REMINDS ME   
> I HAVE A [BLOG](http://ask-deafkri.tumblr.com) FOR THIS GUYS   
> JSYK

You enter your moirail's hive loudly as usual, with giggles and a whined call of his name to announce your arrival, in case slamming the door open wasn't enough. That was mostly an accident though. 

A lot has changed since Kankri moved in. Well not really. It's still a big purple hive with hints of olive and strands of Meulin's hair sticking to everything but you can see Kankri's belongings here and there, little splotches of red painted onto your purple memory of this place. There's even fuzz from his sweaters. Ech. 

It's mostly just the books that you've seen him reading before. You asked him why he even bothered reading once and he responses with his new favorite phrase of this sweep: "I'm deaf, not blind." He says that for everything. Meulin says it's reassurance, that it'll help him cope and adjust better. You don't get it but whatever keeps him asleep at night. You guess your methods of adjusting to your own head again were pretty weird to others so you don't usually say anything. 

He's reading one of them now, actually, in some claimed corner of the hive. You decide against bothering him despite what feels like some outer force trying to persuade you otherwise. You learned your lesson. Don't scare Kankri. 

You find Kurloz in his respiteblock, tapping a pencil against a sheet of paper. There's scattered notes all over it and you kinda recognize the style. Your 'rail is a pretty organized guy when it comes to his thoughts and his plans but sometimes he just needs to write it all down. He did it for the transfer preparations too. You kept those notes. 

You look at them over your 'rail's shoulder. He spares you a glance, gives you a soft pat to your side, and actually leans against you. He continues writing, shorthand notes that you can read because hello? Moirail over here? You helped him make the system up. He's got tons of shit on one side about Kankri and trust and events with different numbers next to them; he humors you in a high five when you comment about them showering together. 

The highest number you see is a 67 next to yesterday's date. Was that yesterday's? You don't keep track of the time. You don't know why some of you still do. Aranea sure doesn't. The earliest date you see is from nights and nights ago. 41 if your math is still good. Or 14. It's one of those. You're partial to 41; it spells AI. 

Kurloz switches to the other side of the paper with predominantly Meulin notes. These ones are sloppier, less of your combined creation shorthand and more of his own development. You can't read it as well but you do notice the tiny heart in one corner with a question mark next to it. Your thoughts drift to your gamer babe and your own heart clenches a bit. 

Your arms are around your palebro before either of you can really comprehend it. He freezes, sets the pencil down, and brings his hands up to the arm drapes over his chest. He doesn't push you away or pull you closer. Just sits there, resting himself on you. 

You don't think you could ever handle losing 'Tula. You can't imagine Kurloz without Meulin. 

"Thhe's not gonna go ith thhe?" Your 'rail wipes a bit of spit from his cheek and you yell at your tongue for being so stupid. He chuckles in that quiet way through his nose. 

"I ain't too motherfucking sure," he signs to you. "She's been all up and running around with her hearing back. Barely talks to me anymore." He doesn't seem to mind all that much when you look at him. He looks tired and confused and he looks like he's still concentrating on his notes in his head but he doesn't look disappointed. You don't think he's going to stop her if she does leave. 

You make a heart with your hands, a last ditch attempt to help him see _something_ , help him in some way. 

He pushes the two halves of the heart apart. 

"Maybe some fucking time to herself is what she needs." You don't understand how he can look so calm about losing his only quadrant, especially after they had been together for so long. It makes you wanna go hive and hug Latula tight. 

"Don't worry brother," he tells you, "she'll come back if it was meant to be." He smiles a little, this scary, sinister thing painted on his face. You don't think it'd be so bad without the stitches. 

You don't accept his answer. You press your hands together and rub deviously. "Get on the pile, Kurkur. It'th time two pap." 

Kankri ==> Search

You set your book down when you yawn for the third time in the same chapter, deciding that yes, you can finish it tomorrow. You place your bookmark on the page, leaving the little purple tassel out. It's this comforting shade of violet, not quite as dark as Kurloz's color but it was the closest you could find in your belongings. You thought of replacing it but the thought didn't sit well in your chest for whatever reason. 

Book in hand, you wander the now familiar halls of the hive in search of your ma — companion. Surely he'd left the respiteblock right? Or did he spend the whole day pining over his thoughts? Oh goodness, and here you were just reading and freaking out because you could not believe that the main character had the hots for the villain — how frustrating. Her folly was not the issue though; the issue was that you could not find your highblooded host anywhere in the hive. You suppose he did just stay in his block all evening. 

You make your way there, pushing the door open without a second thought. He liked it closed and didn't usually say anything about you entering without knocking so long as you closed the door behind you.

You really don't remember Mituna coming in to the hive. With how late it was now you would have figured he'd left by now even if you had known he'd come in. As it stands though, you had no idea that he was here and now you've stumbled upon him and Kurloz having the palest papping you've ever laid eyes on. Kurloz is practically putty, lying between Mituna's legs, the yellowblood's fingers running through his curly locks of hair. They occasionally trace over parts of his long horns and Kurloz leans into those touches. He looks so content that you swear he's purring. Mituna is speaking to him — you can see his lips moving — but you've no idea what about. 

Your palm is over your eyes before you can fully close them. It stings a little and you can feel yourself yelp a little from the shock of it all. 

You just walked in on a pap session. Oh God. 

Your eyes tightly shut, you try signing an apology and pray they know you're there by now so they can see it. Kurloz pressing into your head is a reassuring notification, and he doesn't sound particularly upset with you which is nice. He's been having a lot of fits lately. 

"Take it easy, motherfucker," he sounds so soft right now, which shouldn't be as surprising as it is. "You ain't done nothing wrong. My brother over here was just getting his leave on. His little mate's pinin' for him back at his hive." You nod to let him know you're listening, but keep your eyes firmly shut. It's not until you feel a familiar ruffle to your hair that you open them. 

You apologize again as you all say your goodbyes but they just shrug you off. No harm done apparently. You relax finally, hand searching for Kurloz's. Fingers interlace. Your smile turns soft, much like Kurloz's when he was in the pile. 

It feels odd sleeping there when you do settle down with him after a quick dinner. It's just you two today, no Meulin to balance the equation of your bodies. There's memories of a papping here that has Kurloz so relaxed and has you feeling rather jealous. You want to be the one who makes him feel that happy, that calm, that beautiful. You want to be the one to make him feel appreciated and loved and — 

Oh God. You want to be his mate so badly. 

You curl up at his side, and he lazily wraps his arms around you. Goodness, this feels so right and perfect and you could just fall into this routine of "good day, Kurloz, flush for you" — 

Oh God. 

"Shhh, Kankri. Thoughts for another day." 

He said your name. 

He said your _name_. 

You fall asleep in his arms with a smile on your face. 

Kurloz ==> Pat yourself on the back

Metaphorically of course. No need to disturb your little mutant. 

His reaction to his own name has you believing that maybe, just maybe, you bumped that trust meter up. You make a mental note to write down later. 

Mother. Fucking. Miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perfection baby :o)


	12. Meulin ==> Go Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I start losing track of all my notes   
> And things get a little messy quadrant wise, if last chapter's ending wasn't a clue to that   
> whooooo boy

You've been spending a lot of time out here as of late. You can't help it. Everything is so new and exciting now that you can hear the chirps of animals in memories long gone and the blow of wind and the patter of rain, though you don't go anywhere near those awful droplets. Now that Kankri's settled into the hive, you have the chance to explore what you missed out on after all those sweeps. You can _hear_. The possibilities are endless for you now. 

A lot of times you'll top your night off with a visit to your moirail before going hive again but tonight is a little different. You had started telling him about your escapades outside and then about Kankri and Kurloz, how adorable Kankri is and how so obvious it I'd that Kankri is showing flush feelings for Kurloz. In all honesty, it should bother you that he's waxing red for your mate but you know he wouldn't try anything and you trust Kurloz not to do anything either. To your surprise, Rufioh pipes in at this. 

"Are you sure it's red? From what you've been saying lately, it doesn't sound very red." Even as he says it though, he doesn't sound very certain. "I mean, think about it, doll. Why would he want to be flush for someone already with a matesprit and someone that he's reluctantly dependent on?" You don't respond. "Just sounds suspicious is all I'm getting at. A little pitch, if you ask me." 

You aren't ashamed to admit that you go a little overboard with the quadrant shipping rant. It's well into the day by the time you're finished and Horuss has already fallen asleep at your side. Rufioh's still not entirely convinced that your friends are completely flush but then again, you're not 100% certain either. Maybe they are a little pitch. Vacillation happens often amongst trolls especially with trolls who've never been in a quadrant, like Kankri. That's what you think anyway. 

Rufioh's main argument though was that he thought Kankri was flush for you, not Kurloz. "I mean, why else would he willing give up his hearing and go through all that change and suffering and pain if he wasn't waxing red, doll? Kankri preaches kindness but he's not _that_ much of a saint." He did make a valid point. Long after you both decided to rest, Rufioh allowing you to stay in his hive with Horuss since it was late, you still thought of the idea of you and Kankri. You thought of how brightly he smiled around you, how eager he was to share his stories with you and the developments in his books. How you helped him without hesitation, how you went out of you went out of your way to keep from triggering him by speaking. How your heart sped up just a little thinking of his adorable sleeping face and his hand holding yours across Kurloz's stomach. 

Maybe he was flush for you. 

Maybe you were a little flush for him too. 

Your cheeks heat up softly. The image of Kankri signing "oh goodness" comes to mind. Yeah. You've got it bad. 

Meulin ==> Continue

Sleep doesn't come to you easily after all the debating and thinking and when it does, it lasts only a little while. Awake and curled up by your moirail still, you continue thinking about what these flushed implications could mean. 

It means you aren't as flush for Kurloz as you originally were, which you knew. You knew you'd be growing apart ever since your deaths, especially now that you don't rely on him for sound, for a glimpse at happiness. You thought of Kurloz and his soft smile and his gentle touch but you couldn't remember why you'd fallen flush for him in the first place. What was it about your adorable mime that you wanted so badly? The memories from being you became deaf, from before he stitched up his lips and changed his life for you, from before you were dead; they were all so hazy and faded. You thought of how Horuss could go on for hours about how much he loved Rufioh and you know Latula and Mituna were more than happy with each other. 

But you with Kurloz? It just didn't feel _right_ anymore. 

Feeling flush for Kankri means you no longer hold those feelings towards your matesprit. Feeling flush for another troll means you have to break it off with Kurloz before things get too messy. 

You feel exhausted again by the time you come to this conclusion. Shifting a little closer to your palemate and reveling in the comforting feel of his blood's temperature, you drift back into sleep, dreaming of soft unheard laughs and the smile of blunt, mutantblood teeth. 

Kurloz ==> Stir

Night comes too quickly for you. You find yourself groggy and with Kankri already awake. He's facing away from you and likely could've gotten up but your arm is tucked around his waist and he seems pretty content laying his head on your other arm. His one arm is free to roam and he's using that freedom to doodle on a spare piece of paper. Maybe he did get up earlier and just didn't feel like leaving you alone. What a sweet motherfucker you have. You took pride in this cute new Kankri you were training. 

He startles when you stretch, lifting up so you can move the arm under his head as well. You lay it back down for him when you're done. He settles back down and resumes doodling, and you can _feel_ his sense of security and trust in you. It's intense but at the same time you feel like he's still not completely at that level you want him to be. He feels safe with you but he wouldn't follow you into double death. You pull him a little closer and nuzzle the nape of his neck, giving it a small peck of your sewn lips. To your surprise, he gives you a soft, content sigh, relaxing even further into you. Interesting. So those weren't just tired mutant thoughts. He's really waxing flush for you. 

You give him a few more kisses before realizing that Meulin is still nowhere to be seen. A quick inquiry has you believing she never came back hive. Kankri hadn't seen her. 

Had she really left? Without any warning? 

You search your memories and find no signs of her wanting to leave. She said nothing of moving back to her hive, nor feeling left out or depressed. She just slowly went out more and more Evert night until neither of you saw her often at all. 

Did you miss your chance to stop her? Was she hurt? 

Kankri, obviously sensing your stressed thoughts despite not having established a connection with him — _damn_ , he has that heart filled to the brim — he turns in yours arms and wraps his own arm around you. He nuzzles under your chin and you think by the way he's petting your side that he's trying to calm you down without actually papping you. The sad thing is that it works. Your breathing steadies a little as your panic turns more into rage. If she wants to leave, fine. You'll let her. What do you care? 

You still promise yourself that if she doesn't come back by the morning then you'll look for her. Willingly leaving is one thing. Being hurt somewhere or held captive by someone — cough a certain seadwelling bastard cough — was an entirely different story. You almost want to go to Cronus' now and see if he really has taken your matesprit. 

You look down at Kankri. His eyes. His lips. His body, a little rounder than you remember. You think you've been feeding him a little too much but the look suits him. He deserves a little coddling after all the work he's put into helping others — or so that's the story you'll tell him when he notices it. 

He's so relaxed. So trusting. 89% at the minimum. You can't throw all that away by accusing one of his closer friends of something he may not have even done. 

At least, not while they're still friends. 

You hum and settle back into the pile, petting your little mutant's hair. You know what your next goal is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o) honk


End file.
